Loved For What You're Not
by fictorium
Summary: Set during Heart of Darkness - things get a little heated behind the glass.
1. Chapter 1

_It's okay to say you've got a weak spot _

_You don't always have to be on top _

_Better to be hated than love, love, loved for what you're not_

__**Marina and the Diamonds - I Am Not A Robot**

* * *

They watch in silence as Mary Margaret is led out, back to her cell.

Emma leans her head against the one-way mirror for a moment, exhaling loudly. It's bad enough that this is a scarily good frame job, but now Mary Margaret is being goaded into screwing herself permanently. It doesn't make any sense, that anyone would come after an innocent schoolteacher this way; it reminds Emma of her days before Storybrooke, when she saw the legal system as something to fear, not something she could ever be a part of.

But worst of all is that in the midst of fighting for Mary Margaret and searching for more evidence, Emma finds herself stuck in a confined space with Regina. Regina, who stares that dead-eyed stare at her own half-reflection, and smirks just a little as everything gets a little bit worse. Regina, who smells like fancy perfume and clean, fresh cotton, whose face is impossibly sad even when she's supposed to be reveling. Emma doesn't understand why, when presented with her family (or whatever) in trouble, she's still fascinated by Regina-sneaking little looks and watching her for something, anything to explain why she is the way that she is.

Maybe it's because there's no truth to be uncovered in the room with Mary Margaret and Gold-only more lies. Here in the observation room (more like observation closet) Emma finds herself replaying the frank confession Regina made just days ago in the interrogation room, about a crushing loss and the terrible things it drove her to. That's the story Emma is losing sleep over every night, even as she pours heart and soul into the quest to help her roommate.

"Enjoying yourself?" Emma asks, peeling her head away from the cool glass.

"What a cruel accusation," Regina counters, but she sounds more shaken than smug. "You really do think the worst of me, don't you Sheriff?"

"You keep giving me reason to," Emma says, and Jesus Christ, she is so beyond tired. She showered about an hour ago in a vain bid to feel refreshed but now she just feels kind of cold, and there doesn't seem much point to anything she's doing. "What the hell happened to you, anyway?"

Another time she would have been more cautious, but she's effectively been asking this same question since the day Henry dragged her to this town, and Emma is shit out of both patience and finesse.

"You know what happened," Regina snaps. "I don't see that the details are necessary, dear."

"You're... hurt?" Emma tries, because she's spent so long trying to decide what evil emotion is pushing Regina on that she completely skipped over that possibility. "You're still hurting, I mean. That's why you're like this."

"Shut. Up," Regina snarls, stepping forward. In a space this small that basically puts her right in Emma's face. "You know nothing about me."

And there it is, that damn problem again: Emma wants to know something about Regina. Hell, she wants to know everything.

"You know," Emma says, fronting up to the Mayor. "If you would stop trying to control every last detail for just a minute," she continues. "You might find some time to actually be happy. And then you could stop trying to ruin everyone else's life."

"How dare you-" Regina spits, but Emma's stepping back towards her leaves Regina backed against the mirror.

"It's true, Madam Mayor. You're a textbook control freak," Emma can't help but glance towards the closed door. If anyone were to walk in right now this might look bad-Regina backed against the wall, Emma's threatening body language.

"We can't all spiral out of control our whole lives," Regina argues. "Just because you're lacking in self-discipline doesn't mean everyone else should be."

There's a glint. There's a goddamned fucking glint in her eye when she says the word 'discipline'. And that's when Emma knows she hasn't been imagining this weird tension, where every conversation seems to be happening on at least two different levels. She hasn't been imagining all the times she felt Regina raking her eyes up and down Emma's body at every opportunity, or how close they've been sitting or standing in recent days.

"Are you offering to discipline me?" Emma asks, before she can think better of it. Her tiredness has evaporated now, almost like the energy from Regina (so close, so practically in touching distance) is recharging Emma somehow. It feels like something inside her is singing, even if she doesn't know the words.

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Swan," Regina tries to cover, but the fluster is showing. Emma decides in an instant to take the chance, and she leans in quickly to kiss her own name right off Regina's lips.

"Mmmf," Regina protests in the first moment, but as Emma pulls back Regina's hand is on the back of her head, just under Emma's ponytail, pulling her back in with surprising strength.

"This is insane," Regina sighs when they break apart, Emma actually staggering a step or two when Regina relents with the iron grip. "If this is some tactic on your part to-"

"Oh, shut up," Emma interrupts, and this time when she kisses Regina there's a note of warning in it. "Honest to God," she gasps when they part for a second time. "Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?"

"Not really," Regina says with a smirk. Emma reaches for the lapels of her deep red jacket, an unwitting complement to Emma's own, tighter top. It takes no more than a couple of seconds to have the blazer thrown on the floor, leaving just the low-cut white blouse as a barrier between them. When Emma hesitates, Regina starts unbuttoning it herself.

Which is all the excuse Emma needs to press herself against Regina, whose hands keep working. Emma has her hands quite busy grabbing Regina's ass, which is every bit as perfect as advertised in all those tight skirts over the past few months. Meanwhile, Emma gets to kiss and lick and nip at Regina's elegant neck and prominent collarbone to her heart's content. There's an urgency to it, because there's no lock on that door and eventually someone will notice their continued absence. Emma just has to hope everyone will assume they're fighting and give them a wide berth for a while. It wouldn't exactly be unusual, and yet here they are-at each other's throats in a completely different way.

If Emma has controlled the action until now, she's distracted enough to lose the upper hand just a moment later. Using Emma's shoulders for leverage, Regina spins her until Emma is pressed face-first against the half-silvered glass. Emma tries to focus on the empty table and chairs, but Regina's hands are everywhere at once, tugging at Emma's zipper in one moment and roughly pushing her top up in the next.

It ends up with Emma's bare breasts pushed against the cool glass, after Regina has stroked and twisted Emma's nipples into hard peaks that have a hardwired connection straight to her clit. It means Emma is already soaked as Regina slips a hand into plain, black panties, before complaining about the angle and pushing the panties down to join Emma's jeans at her ankles.

"So wet," Regina breathes against Emma's ear. "You want this so badly, don't you dear?"

"Fuck," is all Emma can think of in response. She wants to deny it, but can't risk any pointless stand that might cause Regina to stop. Those slender fingers tease and torment Emma while Regina kisses and runs her tongue over the back of Emma's neck, and by the time Regina is pistoning two fingers in and out with hard, rhythmic strokes, Emma knows she's going to come in very short order.

She does, seeing stars and then the cloud from her breath on the back of the mirror. Regina is smug right away, of course, until Emma can clumsily reach for her and push her against the wall for what Emma planned to start with.

Regina's unflappable exterior dissolves the instant that Emma's fingertip first grazes Regina's clit. From then on she's a storm of emotion, whimpering and frowning and then smiling impossibly bright as Emma works her fingers in rough circles and then in a series of thrusts to mirror Regina's own. Regina doesn't talk much, just quiet babble that transforms into Emma's name as she climaxes, and Emma stops kissing Regina long enough to lean back and appreciate the image.

It's quite something to see the usually pristine mayor, shirt undone and underwear gone, leaning back against the wall looking thoroughly well-fucked, with Emma's hand still between her thighs. The sight alone provokes Emma to provide a hard and fast second round, and this time when Regina comes she sobs her climax into Emma's shoulder.

"Oh God," Emma breathes when they separate in a more permanent way. Clothes are fumbled with and frantically smoothed out, and just as Emma finishes pulling her top down, they freeze at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The whole room smells like sex, and they both still look messy, so Emma heaves a sigh of relief when the footsteps continue on.

"This doesn't change anything," Regina warns, buttoning her jacket and looking haughty (well, as haughty as someone who just came twice, loudly, can manage).

"I know," Emma replies. "Like, it won't stop me continuing to look for more proof. To prove Mary Margaret innocent."

"It's your time," Regina says with a shrug. "Waste it however you want."

"I needed that," Emma confesses in a very small voice. "You were amazing, for what it's worth." She kicks at the floor, squirming in embarrassment.

"You were more than adequate," Regina concedes, and it looks as though the almost-compliment physically hurts her.

"Can we-" Emma begins, but Regina cuts her off with a little wave.

"Tomorrow night," Regina confirms. "I can come to you."

"Okay, maybe," Emma hedges. "I really have to go now."

"As do I, dear," Regina points out.

Emma takes her chance and slips out of the observation room, already kicking herself for not demanding just one more kiss to tide her over.

Oh well, she thinks, as she goes out to check that Mary Margaret has been returned to her cell correctly; at least there's a chance of more. Somehow, coming from Regina, that seems like a lot more than it should.

Emma reaches for her car keys, in a hurry to leave before Regina can stride out to interrupt her. She doesn't think about what this could mean for Mary Margaret, or for Henry, and instead jogs outside to go and get some real police work done.

She can still smell Regina on her as she turns the steering wheel and heads out into the streets of Storybrooke.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma doesn't really believe in heaven (or fairytales, for that matter) but she's pretty sure she's going to hell for this little plan. She waits at the end of the driveway, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, until the walkie-talkie crackles into life.

"The Eagle-" Henry begins, but Emma cuts him off with her talk button.

"Henry," she says. "Is your mom in the shower or not?"

"Yeah," Henry confirms, sounding a little hurt that Emma still won't play the game properly. "Good luck."

Emma wonders if the kid would still say that if he knew her true mission tonight.

The front door lock is even easier to jimmy than the garage, and Emma wonders if she should suggest that Regina get a better security system than basic locks and intimidation. Probably not the time or the place, though. Getting upstairs takes no time, because Regina's perfect home has no creaking steps to catch Emma out.

The hallway is the last hurdle, because Emma has counted the windows enough times to know which room is Henry's... naturally, the one opposite the master bathroom. This is why the whole scheme is stupid, Emma thinks, groaning inwardly. It's bad enough she's had sex with Regina three times already since hooking up in the observation room at the police station, but actively seeking out another encounter leaves Emma thinking she might have gone crazy after all; at least in this town she'll be in good company.

By some miracle, Henry doesn't hear her approach, even though his bedroom door is slightly open. Emma feels a little funny observing that-she's spent so long demonizing Regina in her head that these careful little gestures of motherhood take Emma by surprise.

But here it is: sink or swim time. Emma takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle. A second later, she's closing the door behind her and looking across the huge bathroom for Regina, who's nowhere in sight.

The water in the (oh-my-God-gorgeous) waterfall shower is running though, and Emma knows enough about doing without luxuries to know a great one when she sees it. She's wriggling out of her leather jacket when Regina appears from a door on the other side of the bathroom, wrapped in a black silk robe.

"Hi?" Emma offers, awkwardly, raising her hand in a kind-of wave. It's enough to startle Regina, who looks genuinely panicked until she registers that the door behind Emma is closed.

"But Henry-" Regina starts to warn.

"Don't worry," Emma assures her, reaching to pull off her boots, one after the other. "I made sure he'll stay in his room."

"How..." Regina says, but her eyes are raking up and down Emma's body as the Sheriff begins unbuttoning her jeans.

"Do you care?" Emma asks, because she already knows the answer. She doesn't want to answer questions about codes and walkie-talkies and the fact that Emma broke in illegally a few nights ago, not even now that Kathryn has miraculously shown up and is resting in the hospital, under sedation.

"I suppose not," Regina says, with a shrug. Her hands drift immediately to the loose knot at her waist, and Emma's halted from shoving her jeans down with anticipation. "I'm having a shower," Regina adds, quite unnecessarily. "Am I to assume you're joining me?"

"What do you think?" Emma asks, kicking off her jeans and reaching for the hem of her tank top. They can't ask each other nicely, can't admit out loud that either of them wants this, because that would be far too dangerous ground. Instead they snipe at each other with sarcasm and posturing, until they're close enough to not need words anymore. Speaking of which, Emma has the rest of her clothing on the floor in record time, leaving her free to walk across and undo Regina's robe herself.

"You should conserve water better," Emma says, with a nod towards the running shower that Regina still hasn't set foot in.

"That's why I'm showering with someone else," Regina replies with a smirk. Her hands are already gripping Emma's bare hips, and with her robe out of the way it feels like Emma's just unwrapped an especially hot gift.

"Come on, then," Emma suggests, but Regina claims a kiss first-her mouth hot and insistent against Emma's own, tasting of brandy and the faintest trace of mint. Emma loses herself in the sensations for a moment, moaning softly as Regina strokes gently with her tongue. It's not getting any less intoxicating, Emma worries, and the fourth time feels just as exciting as the first.

Regina pulls back, her eyes heavy-lidded as she looks at Emma, still suspicious (still waiting for the other shoe to drop). Emma smirks and takes Regina's hand, leading her to the glass doors that house the cascading water. Stepping inside is like being whisked away to a rainforest, and the clammy heat of it reminds Emma of Tallahassee at first. She shakes off the memories, pulling Regina to her as they slip beneath the falling water.

"I'll say this for you," Emma says as she lays teasing kisses along Regina's jaw. "You have great taste in bathrooms."

"Well, in the absence of a real waterfall," Regina snarks, leaning back against the marbled wall. "I suppose this will do."

Emma kisses Regina greedily, because she tastes different with water cascading down her face, because she looks different with her makeup scrubbed off, because she might just be different enough for this not to be what it really is, outside of this room. When Regina's lips are soft and pliant, and her fingertips are dancing up and down Emma's spine in little splashes of water, it's easy to forget that Emma is supposed to hate her, that they've been waging war for months now and that this is somehow the ceasefire. It's soldiers playing soccer on Christmas Day, or something, Emma's a little hazy on the few history classes she actually bothered to pay attention in.

It feels more intimate, somehow, when their skin slips and slides against each other. This isn't a quick and dirty fuck against a mirrored wall, or a frantic bout of fingering against the side of Emma's car in the woods. It's calmer, but more insistent than two nights ago in Emma's bed, when she'd make Regina shriek and sob through three orgasms, while Emma tried hard not to feel bad about betraying Mary Margaret in the woman's own home.

But Emma's pretty sure now that this mess is beyond even Regina's influence, so while her conscience isn't exactly clear, Emma can cup Regina's breasts gently and lick her nipples to hardened peaks while Regina mutters encouragement above her.

"Is this what you want?" Emma asks, just loud enough to be heard over the spray. "You want my mouth on you, Regina?"

"Yes," Regina snaps, still not accustomed to asking nicely.

"You want me to keep going?" Emma continues, sinking slowly to her knees with a splash. "You want me to do you like this?"

"Fuck, yes," Regina hisses, and Emma rewards her by parting Regina's folds with her thumbs.

"Right here?" Emma asks again, but she doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she dips her head just a little and flicks her tongue over Regina's clit. That alone is enough to make Regina's knees tremble, and for the first time Emma considers that the Mayor might seem to need this every bit as much as Emma does.

The shower keeps on pouring, and Emma's hair is plastered to her head as she dives back in to keep working her tongue in deft, random flicks. She doesn't want this to be over too soon, not tonight, and so she doesn't allow Regina to build up any kind of rhythm, no matter how desperately she thrusts her hips towards Emma's mouth. Occasional streams of water run down Regina's body in the right way to splash against Emma's tongue, but the blandness of the water just offsets the addictive tang of how Regina tastes.

"Please," Emma hears falling from Regina's mouth. "Please please please," and it's like a mantra, dissolving into a frustrated sob. Emma Swan is many things, but she's not a sadist (even though Regina draws that streak out of her like nobody else on earth). She relents, taking two fingers of her right hand and thrusting them inside Regina, crooking them forwards just enough to make sure Regina's knees do buckle. This time when Emma flicks her tongue over Regina's hardened clit, she's taking no prisoners. It seems to take no time at all until Regina is undone, her cries muffled by her own hand while the other strokes aimlessly over Emma's wet hair.

"Damn," Emma mutters, getting off her slightly sore knees, using Regina's hips for leverage. "You needed that, huh?"

"Shut up," Regina groans, her eyes still closed and her hand still resting on her face.

"Won't," Emma sasses, kissing Regina shallowly, until Regina grabs Emma and makes it a deeper kiss, licking the taste of herself from Emma's lips and tongue.

"Stay," Regina murmurs, reaching blindly for the shower controls. "Stay," she repeats as the water shuts off, and this time the word carries much more weight.

"Here?" Emma blurts. "With you?"

"For the night, Miss Swan," Regina sighs. "I wasn't proposing a change of address."

"Oh," Emma replies, her mind racing with how to say no and still get laid before fleeing. It's not exactly her finest moment, but just as Regina seems to sense Emma's internal scheming, Emma hears herself saying the last thing she intended. "Okay."

"Good," Regina breathes, smirking but still looking relieved. She opens the shower door and pulls fresh, fluffy towels from the rack, wrapping one around her own body before reaching around Emma to do the same for her. "Don't drip on the floor, dear," Regina warns, but she sounds too relaxed for it to carry any real malice.

Emma grabs a smaller towel on the way out, for her hair, and then considers the closed door and whether they'll be able to sneak past Henry. Instead, Regina walks across to the other door and beckons for Emma to follow.

"My bedroom," Regina says simply, waving Emma through. Emma's surprised that it's actually quite modest, by Regina's standards. The room looks more comfortable than anything else.

She turns to Regina, whose dark hair is slicked back from her face, and Emma kisses her soundly. It's safer than trying to express what a big deal this is, how Emma doesn't do this, and that she's going to do it anyway. Regina's hands are trembling as she cups Emma's face, and that is somehow enough to settle Emma's own nerves.

"Now," Emma says, dropping her towel with very little ceremony and launching herself onto the bed. "I believe you owe me a little something."

And the predatory smile on Regina's face says that Emma is very much going to get it.


End file.
